Marshall&Gavin, LLP
by PrsctrTails
Summary: An AU I've been tinkering with for a while. Another Kristoph Gavin/Neil Marshall centric effort, mostly. Planning to use many characters, Neil and Kris will just be the centric. Read and Review!
1. Lazy Saturday

First came the cell phones. One playing Pachelbel, the other Keith Urban. These were their personal phones, the one's they used for trading racy text messages and phone calls. The volumes on the two devices were at a lower setting, thus keeping the duo in blissful slumber.

Next came the work issued phones. One was off and the other was on vibrate. Swing and a miss. The snoozing bodies only curled closer together. Despite the sun having been up for a few hours, the thick curtains were pulled over the windows, this blocking out a good portion of the orb's intrusive rays.

Finally, in what was probably a testament to the prolonged usefulness of phone companies, the home phone sitting in its cradle burst to life with a shrill, loud ring. This seemed to get through. From the bed, a hand rose up and made a few grabs for the phone, missing the first few times before finally clasping it and clutching it next to his head.

"Hel-" He began, drawl hampered by the fact he wasn't actually awake yet.

"Turn on the TV! CNN!" The voice on the other end practically screamed.

That was enough to wake Neil up. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he plucked the remote off the dresser. Shifting his gaze to the obscenely large wall mounted television; he mashed several buttons until he finally got it on. He made a note to read the instruction manual later on. He then watched in slack jawed awe as he observed something that was worthy of The Far Side.

The setting was a ballroom of a very nice Hotel; Neil recognized it as somewhere in Hollywood. But, the setting wasn't what made it… unique. No, that would have been the cast of characters involved in the merry farce.

He watched as the large tuxedo clad frame of Los Angeles Chief of Police Damon Gant wrestled with a red-suited young man who was attempting to simultaneously hang onto his back and pull the Chief's hair out while another young fellow threw whatever food he could get his hands on at the furious law officer.

Neil blinked once, trying to assure himself that it couldn't be two of the biggest acting stars in the world. No, it just couldn't be. Why? Why in God's name would Matt and Juan do _this_? Couldn't they just make another freaky sex tape? At least that would be easier to spin. Sighing, he realized he should probably wake Kris up. Turning to his left, he nudged the blonde with his elbow.

"Kristoph, you're… you're probably gonna wanna wake up for this." The cowboy defense attorney suggested. The sound asleep blonde mumbled something and proceeded to turn away from the source of this annoying interruption. Neil laughed as he leaned over. "I know you can hear me. So either wake up for I'm gonna burp."

The threat of a whiskey tinged Neil Marshall belch seemed to be the exact right thing to raise sleeping beauty.

"I'm up. I'm up." Kristoph reassured. "Keep your gas to yourself." He said, groping for his glasses. His speech was fractured with yawns. "What is so important? It's Satur- Oh, good God!"

Indeed, Kristoph's reaction had pretty much mirrored Neil's. The two sat dumbstruck, gawking at the television as two of their biggest clients attacked the most powerful policeman in California. Kristoph, finally slightly awake, came up with a rational thought.

"God, do you know how much we could make from this?" The blonde wondered aloud.

"If we take it to Trial? _A ton_." Neil answered. "That and we'd make the news every night for months." Kristoph nodded.

"Of course, this will eat up every second of our free time until it's resolved." The blonde pointed out. Neil cocked an eyebrow.

"In that case… it's 9:30 in the morning… I'm going back to sleep. 12 seems like a good enough wake up time." The Texan decided, easing himself back down on the bed. Kristoph quickly followed suit.

"So…we're just leaving them there, which is probably jail?" The blonde just had to ask.

"C'mon, Kris. You think for a second that those two are in a group holding cell? They're probably in the same cell this very minute, thinking up more weird relationship ideas." Neil reasoned with a nod. " 'Sides, they put Two-Face Matt in with a bunch of drunks and pedophiles, they'd have quite the body count come morning."

"Yeah, that's true." Kristoph said, chuckling. He readjusted himself, trying to relax. "You willing to handle the press side of this?"

"Yeah, 'course." Neil said, nodding. He knew that Kristoph, who had fairly recently overcome crippling shyness, was still somewhat timid around cameras and large crowds. He compensated with a photographic memory and a suave, understated Courtroom style. As a young public defender, Kristoph made maintained a win rate of 70%, something positively unheard of for a P.D. Of course, it wasn't really to anyone's surprise that he had graduated tops in his law school class from UCLA. He dressed well; three-piece suits were standard, even before his entry into the world of high profile clients. The only thing that he paid more to attention aside from his wardrobe was his hair. His icy blonde mane was usually the talk of the courthouse, for a hair had never been seen out of place. He was still very young at age 24. Due to his having advanced through school rapidly, he had earned his JD by age 21.

As the blonde nestled himself in bed, the Texan pulled the covers back over them. It was unusually windy and causing enough of a drop in temperature. In other words, it actually felt like winter in Southern California. Trying to get himself tired again, Neil yawned. Bored, he ran his tongue over his still tingling teeth. His latest whitening had been very effective, his teeth were now almost as white as those of the celebrities he represented.

Indeed, he was the on-camera face for the law firm known as Marshall&Gavin [M&G for short]. A University of Virginia product, Neil had moved to Los Angeles to work as a prosecutor. That was as far as he had planned. Of course, he hadn't planned on meeting the shy, cute, blonde public defender. He really hadn't planned on losing to him, but that had just wetted his curiosity. Neil had courted the young blonde, not knowing it would turn into one of those rare whirlwind romances where the two parties involved fell madly in love with each other before they knew it. He had managed to do all this while maintaining a 90% conviction rate. Though he often shrugged it off, he was in fact one of the better lawyers employed at the Prosecutor's office. His easygoing manner and savvy belied his still young 28 years.

They had faced off in Court a total of 12 times. Neil had won five times, Kristoph had won five times and two were mistrials. After the second, the two struck up an interesting accord. Rather than continue to batter each other over largely depressing cases involving largely depressing matters, the two reached a compromise. The two had reasoned, over Kristoph's first real drink of alcohol, that a partnership would be smart.

Neil had done the math. His skill with the press and Kristoph's impeccable Courtroom record would make for an impressive venture. It also helped that Kristoph's younger brother was a rock star who was literally swimming in money he couldn't give away fast enough. One sizeable loan later, the two had an office on the upper floor of a skyscraper in the Financial District of downtown Los Angeles. The firm officially opened on a New Year's Day. Klavier Gavin was the first client.

xxx

The snoring body was splayed onto upon the bed, arms and legs at angles that would give Picasso pause. His legs occasionally twitched as he rolled over, seeking that elusive position of perfect comfort. Despite the chilly temperature outside, he slept in the nude, finding it to be "liberating". His lean, muscular body still showed the old wounds of college football; a few surgical scars circled his body.

His roomy apartment had a prime view of the beach, and the surfboard that hung on his living room wall was proof he was a frequent visitor. While not exactly messy, it wasn't the tidiest living space; stacks of paper abounded, each a typed page that gave birth to an explosion of handwritten notes that resided in any available white space.

The sound of waves crashing against the sand was perfect to lull him back under whenever he felt the urge to wake up. It even kept him at peace when the shrill bursts of his phone invaded his little paradise. With slight grace, he shoved the phone against his face.

"You got 20 seconds before I throw this damn thang into the ocean." He drawled.

"Easy, Jake. It's Lana. My office in two hours." The sweet sounding voice said. "I'll give you a raise if you wear a tie." She joked before hanging up. Jake sighed as he dropped the phone in its cradle. Rubbing his eyes, he sat himself up, convincing himself he was happy with the 16 hours of sleep he had gotten. He had been aiming for 20, but decided to settle.

Rising from the bed, he batted long wisps of dark hair from in front of his eyes as he made for the kitchen. His stomach growled with every step. He was part way there when he noticed something that wasn't there the day before.

A large, flat gift lay on his coffee table. He ambled over to inspect the foreign object. A card adorned the exact center of the package, his name written in perfect cursive. Curiously, he carefully opened the corners and slid the contents out. He actually gasped.

It was a lovely gold-rimmed frame, his eyes flashed against the clean, spotless glass. He beamed with pride as he silently read off the contents. He mentally read the words off in no particular order: Jacob Owen Marshall, University of Texas School of Law. Juris Doctorate.

Oh, this was just… wonderful. He knew immediately that Neil and Kristoph had to be behind this. He laughed softly, honestly touched. With a wistful sigh, he sat down and relaxed into his couch. He was still in minor shock that he was in fact a law school graduate and a prosecutor to boot.

It wasn't that being a detective was boring, far from it. He was one of the best in the city and loved almost every minute of it. But after a while, he started to think about how things on his little brother's side of the mirror. It was still putting away bad guys, but without as much "dirty work". He had told all this to Kristoph and received an interesting answer, one that was essentially a dare.

"Take the LSAT, Jakey." The blonde had said. "If you can crack a 165, I'll help you get in somewhere."

Kristoph, smarter than his years, realized that someone like Jake, who had a Bachelor's in Criminal Justice and his work experience as a detective, could get in anywhere with a 165, he just wanted to see if it could happen. It had, and Jake was soon working in the Prosecutor's Office.

Placing the framed degree gently back down, he returned to the kitchen, deep in thought over what manner of alcohol he should consume with breakfast. With a shrug, he focused more on food, content that breakfast burritos were a good way to start the day.


	2. Stall and Delay

Waking on his own terms was by far the better option Neil realized as his eyes slid open peacefully. The brightly painted room was alive with scant rays of sunlight, making it all the easier to welcome the mid-day. Freeing a hand from the sheets to sweep a dense patch of wispy brown hair from his eyes. He looked to his left to see Kristoph wrapped in sheets, still in a deep sleep.

Blinking a few times, he stared up at the ceiling. His mind was close to empty, the only bouncing contents being items such as how long his hair had grown, wondering what the water felt like outside and why in God's name Matt and Juan would attack a police officer.

Part of him had hoped that was a bad dream, some sort of oddly amusing but equally perverse fantasy. He knew it wasn't. He wondered how long it would take for the press to start camping out on their front lawn or at the entrance of their office. He liked cameras just fine in a work setting, but seeing a group of eager-beaver entertainment reporters making a home for themselves in such personal distances was a little much.

Leaning up to make sure the curtains were still drawn, he sighed happily. He felt rested, a good feeling coming off a case in which he had kept a rather famous guitarist on a public indecency charge. He grinned as he ran a hand through his length mane. He had moved away from the slicked back, 1950's look, to a freer flowing, 1970's look. Jake playfully accused him of copying him and having "Farrah hair."

Whatever it was called, he liked it, Kristoph liked it, and it looked good on TV. A win all the way around. His gaze shifted to his cell phone, well aware it would be flooded with texts and voicemails. On a whim, he plucked it off the dresser and read the first text he saw. He laughed slightly at the name. It was from Adrian Andrews, the firm's Public Relations specialist.

_French Toast or Waffles_? Was the question. He cocked an eyebrow.

"You awake, Kris?" Neil asked. The blonde stirred a little.

"I suppose." He mumbled, sounding more interested in going back to sleep. "God… put your phone away." He deadpanned. Neil shrugged.

"I think Adrian is bringing breakfast over. French Toast or Waffles?" The Texan asked.

"…Pancakes." Kristoph replied, smiling slightly. Neil followed suit.

"Yeah, that does sound good." He drawled, sending the request for pancakes over his iPhone. "Reckon she'll charge us more for the inconvenience? You know those types." Kristoph looked at Neil a little curiously.

"Those types?" He repeated. "Do you mean Ivy League lawyers, women, women lawyers or lesbians?" The blonde inquired, smile a little devious.

"Hmm." Neil pondered. "The first one and…the third one." He decided. Kristoph rolled his eyes as he fished for his square-ish, thinly rimmed glasses. He plucked them off the dresser and gracefully slid them up his nose. "Turn the TV on. We might see stock footage of us." The blonde pointed out. Neil nodded.

Grabbing the remote, the large plasma screen flickered to life. It, of course, was showing footage of Matt and Juan attempting to wrestle Police Chief Gant to the floor. Since the footage could no longer be considered shocking, it was now rather amusing in a perverse sort of way. As he was about to open his mouth, Neil happily shut it when the screen cut to footage of himself and Kristoph during some previous encounter with the press.

"Oh, look how white our teeth are." Neil observed, pleased with his dentists work. "What case you think that was?"

"Umm… judging by the size of my briefcase, it was probably that Dee Vasquez incident." Kristoph guessed. Neil chuckled as he ruffled his blonde bedmate's hair as he rose from the bed. He nearly giggled as he plucked his discarded briefs from the floor. Kristoph rolled his eyes. "God, I'm afraid to even _look_ at my phone." He complained. Indeed, he was afraid to even _touch_ his phone.

"Leave it." Neil drawled. "Probably just a bunch of texts from Klavy." He pointed out. Kristoph shrugged in agreement. "Where's Vongole?" Neil asked, surprised the young puppy wasn't running circles about the room.

"He's staying with Klavier, remember?" Kristoph reminded. Neil nodded as he dropped himself back on the bed. Feeling brave, he began going through all the calls he had received.

"Let's see… Diego, Adrian, Lotta… regular League of Nations seems to be trying to get through to us." The Cowboy quipped.

"Isn't Diego in Rome with Miles?" Kristoph asked.

"Yeah, but he's probably just calling to laugh at us." Neil theorized.

"Miles is out of town…who do you think will prosecute?" Kristoph asked, cleaning his glasses of smudges. Neil shrugged.

"I don't really care to think about it." Neil laughed. Kristoph joined him.

"Thank God Manfred retired." The blonde said. "The man was a little… off."

"Nice term for batshit." Neil partially corrected. "Maybe we'll get lucky and pull Portsman."

"Hey, I like him." Kristoph laughed. "His smile is impeccable." Neil rolled his eyes as he pulled a robe from their closet and shrugged it on.

"Come on, let's see if Adrian has breakfast." Neil suggested, pulling another robe from the closet and tossing it in Kristoph's direction. The blonde stood from there low positioned bed and pulled it on.

Following Neil out of the bedroom, Kristoph yawned as he navigated the stairs.

"I told you having celebrities for clients wouldn't be worth it." The blonde teasingly sniped. Neil ran a hand through his hair.

"Those celebs got us a mansion on the beach, shut your mouth." He drawled. "Never look a gift horse in the mouth."

"Gift horse?" Kristoph repeated incredulously. "Most of them do nothing but invite one contretemps after another." He lamented, snapping his hands back for dramatic effect. "Besides, if I wanted to represent people who performed such tedious yes odious act as assaulting policemen, I'd go back to the Public Defender's Office." The platinum blonde further lamented. Neil chuckled a little, amused at the blonde's aversion to their more famous clientele.

Rounding off the staircase and making their way for the kitchen, Neil yawned, still tired.

"Even money Adrian ended up going to Denny's." He theorized out loud.

"Are you joking?" Kristoph replied. "I don't think her pedigree will allow her to go into any restaurant where the entrees cost under $75.00"

"He's right, you know." A higher-toned voice suddenly interjected, causing Neil to spin on his heels. "How did you get in?!" He exclaimed, incredulous. Adrian merely shrugged from her seat at the kitchen table, substituting the gesture as an answer. "And I didn't _actually_ go_ inside_ of the Denny's. I got take out." She explained as she adjusted her glasses and giving a fingers only wave towards Kristoph. The blonde blushed and returned it. Neil groaned.

"Oh, for God's sake." He drawled, rolling his eyes. He made his way over to the waiting food on the table. His eyes suddenly lit up. "So, Adrian… how's that lovely Franziska doing?"

"She doesn't know who's going to be prosecuting." Adrian answered, buttering a biscuit.

"How dare you assume I'm trying to exploit your relationship for my gain. I'm insulted." Neil defended.

"_Our _gain." Kristoph corrected, ever aware. Adrian laughed. It quickly spread. Kristoph finally joined them at the table; partly afraid he might end up with one less finger if it got too close to the hungry Marshall. "You know, it's only a matter of time before Matt probably kills someone." Neil and Adrian shrugged in unison.

"Even if he does," Neil said. "We'll be on TV either way."


	3. The Sleuths

[Chapter the third. I've decided to use AAI characters. Seems like a nice way to involve fresh blood… ignore that bad, bad pun. Anyways, read and review!]

Removing his glasses, the pale blonde rubbed the bridge of his nose. Something was just… way too easy about all this. Too simple, too humdrum, too cut and paste.

"Hey, Hicks!" A voice called out behind him. He pivoted in his chair.

"Yes, Dick?" The well-dressed detective answered.

"I think the press want a statement, pal." Dick Gumshoe said. Akbey Hicks sighed. He didn't like press conferences. They weren't the worst things, but he avoided them at all costs.

"Dick, you're the lead detective, you should do it. Besides, I've got forms and forms to fill out." Hicks carefully demurred. Gumshoe nodded in agreement, quite pleased, and turned to go before the ravenous hordes located in another room. Once that storm had passed, he put his glasses back on, returning his gaze upon the case reports he was vainly trying to put together into something sensical.

He, like the rest of the world, had repeatedly seen the oddly hilarious footage of the two noted actors assault his boss. But still, the question was simple. Why? What makes two of the best-paid guys in show business resort to felony assault? A question to baffle even his hardened investigative mind.

Leaning back and throwing his stare upon the ceiling and its fluorescent arrays, Akbey's brain finally clicked into gear. He remembered something. Or, to a more correct point, a lack of something. Every case he had ever handled, and this was going back to his days in uniform, there was some form of a statement that the arrested had made after being Mirandized. Usually it was useless, drunken or drug addled.

But, as the detective recalled, both Juan and Matt were sober, which was odd enough in an assault case. He tapped a pen against his palm, eyebrows knotted curiously.

_So, these two assault the Chief, do it on camera at that_._ They were screaming all sorts of stuff, half of it Spanish_._ Two uniforms, Meekins and Prince, collar them and they suddenly go silent_… _and two plus two is five_.

Glancing down at his watch, Detective Hicks reasoned that he needed something to eat or drink, as well as an excuse to do some independent investigating.

Rising from his desk, he pulled on his raincoat in case the bipolar skies might decide to reopen. He sighed heavily, rolling his neck. His focus shifted to getting out of the building without having to answer anyone asking unwanted questions.

Had the detective been paying attention, he would have noticed the longhaired prosecutor that passed him by. As pensive as his mood was, Assistant District Attorney Marshall was just the opposite.

Working his way down the street, he was smiling for whatever God forsaken reason. Between the weird weather and the various other metropolitan distractions, it wasn't uncommon to see people wear muted, tight-lipped faces. But Jake, who preferred the night, found it much easier to blend in with darkened streets and ample amounts of neon.

Though he wasn't that keen on formal clothes, he mentally conceded he looked good in them. His lean, muscular frame filled out his smartly, somewhat tightly tailored suits quite well. He had been able to keep his lengthy hair, but not his goatee. He refused to admit to anyone that shaving it off had made eating a more sanitary experience.

The young man hooked a turn into a descending parking garage and made his way to an elevator. The ascent was rapid by virtue of some much-needed upgrades that the newly elected DA had acquired through her expert financial haggling.

The silver doors slid open, Jake's eyes immediately trained to a window. He noted he was now well above ground. He looked around; quickly noticing he seemed to be the only person there. He scratched the back of his head, at least expecting one of the secretaries or other prosecutors to be milling around. He simply shrugged and made for his bosses office.

After a short, maze like walk to a pair of large wooden double doors, he eschewed knocking and simply let himself in.

"Knock knock." He drawled. His boss looked up from her desk, hardly amused.

"Manners, Jacob." Lana said. Jake grinned.

"Hey, you woke me up on a Saturday. To Hell with manners." The Texan declared, dropping himself into a chair. "You looked good in that Atmey press conference." He complimented, referring to a case she was thinking about prosecuting herself. It involved some very talented but incredibly mentally unbalanced private investigator.

"Thanks." Lana replied. "I meant to send you a card or something to celebrate you're work in that Cadaverini matter, but I'll just tell you in person. Good job."

"A card?" Jake chuckled. "What happened to the good old days when we'd just get drunk together?" Lana smirked.

"We went to Law School and grew up." She answered.

"Ah-ah. _You _grew up. I just went to Law School. And I didn't go to a snooty one." The cowboy retorted.

"You're still jealous I got into a fancy private school?" Lana teased, looking up from her work. "And you went to the University of Texas. That's also snooty."

"It's not that… it's the fact you went to…_Boston_." Jake said, practically shuddering at the locale. "What's wrong with the schools below the Mason-Dixon?"

"Nothing, Jake." She responded. "And there's nothing wrong with a JD from Boston University."

"There's somethin' wrong with the city." Jake drawled, grinning. Lana quickly caught onto something.

"See, Jake…" Lana began, already laughing slightly. "You lost the right to play your Marlboro man card when you got cosmetic dental work done."

Jake blushed.

"Hey, it was celebratory." "He defended. Lana merely batted her hand.

"I'm going to venture to guess you know why you're here."

"Somethin' about our stupid, I mean, brave Police Chief gettin' his ass handed to him by two actors?" The elder Marshall theorized.

"That is correct." Lana said, smirking. Though the three had been coworkers, Lana and Jake openly despised the gold favoring man who had the job of top cop.

"What're we going with, felony assault on a police officer?" He asked.

"Yes, probably." She answered. "Though, and this is off the record, I want you to look into Chief Gant." The District Attorney requested.

"Look into… how?" Jake asked, a mite bit confused.

"Just poke around, see if he's been up to anything." She specified. "I have suspicions."

"Suspicions?" Jake repeated.

"Yes." Lana said, leaning back in her expensive chair to take in the vastness of her office. "I've gotten some reports from Internal Affairs that are somewhat troubling."

"Like what?" The Texan asked. This was news to him. He by no means liked the Chief, but he was one of Lana's two First Assistant District Attorneys. He figured if there were something to know, he'd know it.

"For the moment, this is off the record." She began. "But, didn't you find it just a little suspicious that you had such trouble finding detectives that would testify during the Cadaverini trial?"

"Maybe." Jake said. Truthfully, he had just figured no one wanted to be involved in prosecuting a mob boss. Putting his mind to it, it wasn't hard to imagine a case of obstruction being in play.

"I'm sure you know which detectives and officers can help you out with this one." She asked. Jake nodded. "Good. So, next point, the defense team."

"Neil and Kris." Jake said, smiling.

"Yes. They should prove fun. "I still don't like seeing your little brother's name on the opposing side. It makes me nervous."

"You and me both." Jake agreed. "And putting him with Kris? Lana, I love that blonde kid to pieces, but he's a shark in the Courtroom. You've seen him."

"I have." She said. "Even as a PD he gutted our best people. Franziska still wants to kill him. And you for being promoted to First Assistant. She doesn't like sharing a title" Jake laughed and heaved a melodramatic sigh. Lana joined in on the chuckles.

"Franny can learn to handle the fact we both have 'First Assistant' in our titles. We both make the same and have the same size office." Jake eschewed with a roll of his eyes.

"Well said." Lana smiled as he flipped open a long, thin notebook. "So, this case is getting top priority from our office. Who do you want working with you? And before you ask, Klavier is busy."

"I want Portsman and Faraday." Jake replied, sounding as if he had decided upon this months in advance. Lana cocked an eyebrow.

"I'll give you Jacques. But Faraday? You want my Executive Assistant?" She asked, a little mystified.

"He's the perfect balance. We need someone with his type of experience. And Jacques, well, he's the most famous wide receiver to ever play on the Stanford football team. He'll get us one or two votes to convict regardless."

"… Fine." Lana said. "I'll five you Byrne. Good luck on getting him to be happy sitting second chair."

"We'll make the table circular." Jake responded, grinning. Lana smirked.

"Fine, fine. Assemble your team, but I want _all_ of you looking into the Chief." She repeated. "I want it done quietly but thoroughly. Understood?"

Jake nervously drummed his fingers against the arms of his chair.

"Listen, Lana… I gotta know what you think I'm gonna find." Jake slowly spoke. "I don't think I can go headfirst into somethin' I don't understand."

At this, Lana leaned forward, resting her elbows on her desk, her face pensive. Jake picked up on this and closed the gap between them.

"It's not really that easy, Jacob." Lana began. Jake nodded.

"Can you back me up?" Jake simply asked.

"Of course. All the way." Lana repeated. Jake nodded, assured. The District Attorney spoke with acid unbecoming her soft, attractive features. "Gant maybe my old boss, but that cuts both ways. Should he so much as threaten this office, I'll have his scalp hanging on my mantle at home."


	4. Strategies

"Self defense?" Kristoph tried.

"Maybe." Neil nodded, hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel. "The sheer size differences would make that an interesting pitch to the jury."

"Though, we'd have to find a way to introduce his violent personality." The blonde added, tapping a pen against his chin.

"Simple" Neil said. "Goes to his pattern of behavior."

"I know _that_, Mr. UVA Law Review." Kristoph quipped. "What I mean is what witness do we get to admit something like that? No way we'd be allowed to ask this to Matt or Juan."

"We need a cop or something similar." The Texan reasoned.

"Oh, I'm sure we can find plenty of them. Cops willing to testify against the _Chief of Police_." Kristoph was about to continue with his sarcasm but grew distracted when he noticed Neil's eyes weren't on the winding road, but on the rearview mirror. "Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

"Hey, my hair feels… off." Neil demurred. "You were the one that told me to grow it out and change styles."

"Because you looked like something from a bad 1950's biker movie." The ever-stylish Kristoph deftly pointed out. Neil rolled his eyes.

"Back on point…" Neil chuckled as he tried to focus on driving, looking at his hair and thinking about a winning defense for their clients. "There's bound to be some cop or detective we can talk to."

"What about Lana?" Kristoph asked.

"…Do you honestly expect me to subpoena the District Attorney? Especially one I once worked with. Therein lies the problem." The younger Marshall drawled.

"Ah… right." The blonde pondered. "Okay…what cops hate the Chief?"

"Most. If not all." Neil said. "And everyone is afraid of him. Everyone."

"Wonderful. We're stuck dealing with two celebrities, one of whom we know to be clinically insane, who attacked the most ruthless and sadistic man to ever wear a badge." Kristoph lamented.

"Yep." Neil nodded. "It's a shame. All we're gonna get out of this is free publicity, at least four million in legal fees and a chance to take down Gant."

"That's an under-average tradeoff." Kristoph almost pouted. Neil shrugged.

"Hey, it's the awkward stuff that lets us have all the nice cars, the big house and the rest of the fancy stuff. Besides, we still win most of our cases." He pointed out.

Kristoph conceded to the point that their jobs allowed them to live their rather affluent lifestyle. Besides, it was a bit of an aphrodisiac to have the names of some of the biggest names in the State as clients. He also enjoyed, thought he'd never verbally admit it, being referred to as "celebrity attorney" on print and television. It was purely egotistical, but it felt good all the same. Trying high-profile cases with his beau was just an added bonus.

"I'm nervous as to who we're going to face for the prosecution." Kristoph said, toying with his ice blonde spiral of hair. "Let's think this through."

"Franziska?" Neil posited.

"Maybe, but she normally sticks to murders."

"Portsman?" The blonde moved on to.

"Maybe." Neil nodded, accelerating the car as they moved onto winding Coastal highway. "This a big-gun case. Wouldn't be surprised to see Faraday. I mean, doesn't this beckon for the Second in Command?"

"Cameras in the Courtroom?" Kristoph mused.

"Oh, that depends on the Judge." Neil responded. "All depends on who we pull. And, bear with me here, Kris… how 'bout we _not_ try and tailor our case on a variable we can't control?"

"…Fine." Kristoph said simply. "Though, we're bound to give the Law School students who hang out around the Courthouse and offices a bad message when we pull up in a car like this." The car they were in fact in was a white 1980 BMW M1 complete with a noticeable spoiler. Among there many shared interests, fancy cars was high on the list.

This was a tad bit odd because Kristoph had only had his Driver's License for less than 16 months. Among other reasons, this normally limited Kristoph to driving an SUV rather than a high performance near super car.

"Can I drive at least once today?" The blonde asked, well aware that the question belonged to someone at least 10 years younger than him.

"Only if you behave." Neil answered. Kristoph rolled his eyes.

"I long for the day you don't patronize me." The blonde grumbled. The Texan only smirked.

"Yeah, poor you." Neil said, lifting a hand from the steering wheel to tickle at Kristoph's cheek.

"As you recall, _Counselor_, I passed both the written and driving sections of Driver's Ed with a perfect score." Kristoph moped. "I should be allowed to drive one of the 25 sports cars we own. I did help buy them." He pointed out.

"We've got one of the Rovers at the office. You can drive it when we get there. Deal?" Neil asked.

"Deal." Kristoph said, taking this as a victory. As he was about to further ponder on his lack of time spent behind expensive cars, an idea struck him. "EED." He blurted out.

"Come again?" Neil asked, thinking Kristoph had lapsed into speaking tongues.

"EED! Extreme Emotional Disturbance!" The blonde said giddy, his cranial Rolodex flipping at rapid speeds. "Think about it, the last time I defended Matt in Court, was on that other assault."

"Yeah, he got upstaged by that magician, Valant, at some awards ceremony. Broke into the guy's house in Beverly Hills and started a fight. You argued that the public humiliation had pushed him off the edge, ergo he had to get his honor back." Neil remembered, voice getting faster and faster. "…Good." He nodded. "All we need is to prove that the Chief did something warranting it. We could do worse."

"It's a long shot." Kristoph said. "I'm going to assume that the only piece of film from that awkward night is the actual assault. If that's the case, we can argue this down to the Chief versus our movie stars." The blonde nearly babbled, excited over this possible strategy.

"This only works because we live in LA." Neil drawled, his voice laced with a chuckle. "Thank God this city loves its celebrities."

As the blonde and the younger Marshall brother dissolved into laughter, Neil's older brother was hard at work trying to figure out the best way to go about recruiting his prosecution team. Jacques Portsman would be easy enough, all he had to do was blow some smoke and that would be that. Harder would be Byrne Faraday, Lana's second in command. It would be difficult to phrase working on an assault case involving the much hated Police Chief.

Byrne was little short of legend. First in his class from UCLA, he was a lifer in the DA's Office. Jake had been on board a little less than a year and was quite uncomfortable asking such a senior member of the office to work an assault case. That and the age difference was also a big deal in Jake's head. Faraday mostly handled homicides and other forms of "Major Case" litigation.

These doubts moved about Jake's minds like tumbleweeds. He fretfully adjusted his tie knot, trying to best find a way to ask one of the best prosecutors in the city to sit as anything under first chair. Of course, it was the District Attorney herself that had allotted him to handle the case, but it was still awkward enough.

Straightening his tie for the fifth time in the last 10 minutes, Jake cleared his throat as he slowly built up the courage to raise his knuckles and lightly rap them against the door.

"Mr. Faraday, Sir?"

The pause, however short it was, served long enough to shred what was left of Jake's bundle of nerves.

"Yes?" Came the reply.

"It's Marshall, Sir. May I come in?" Jake said as he leaned against the door, showing all the manners Lana wished he'd demonstrate with her.

"Sure." Faraday answered. Jake nodded and entered to see the veteran prosecutor seated at his desk that sat towards a corner of his expansive office. "Can I help you, Jake?"

"Um, yeah." Jake said, more than a little nervous." I can guess you know about the, um, awkwardness with the Chief."

"Yes." Bryne nodded. "I found it funny." He chuckled. "Plus my daughter is a big fan of TMZ."

"Makes two of us." Jake agreed. "This is about that. Um, I was wonderin' if you wouldn't be too opposed to joining me on that case."

No sooner had the cowboy finished then Faraday had ceased his work and was now studying the younger prosecutor. This was intriguing Faraday thought; watching the somewhat raw prosecutor appear in his office for reasons he was starting to suspect.

"Joining you the how?" Faraday inquired, leaning back in his oddly large leather chair.

"Well, um… Lana, I mean, The DA, has said she wants me on lead. And that I have priority pick of who I want on the case with me." Jake explained, very close to babbling. Faraday scratched the back of his head.

"Well, my schedule is free." Byrne began. "I don't see why not." He agreed. Jake nodded. That had been painless he thought to himself.

"I'll call Neil as soon as I can so we can set up a meeting." The elder Marshall said. "Also, Lana wants us to look into the Chief as well."

"Look into?" Byrne repeated.

"Yeah, that's what she told me to do." Jake explained. " 'Course, she's always been real suspicious of the Chief."

"Can't blame her for that." Faraday said, smirking.

"No, sir." Jake laughed.

"So, do you still have friends on the force that you trust?" Byrne inquired.

"Yes. A few." Jake said.

"Good." Said Faraday. "Let's start with them."


	5. Discussion Of Tactics

Readjusting his glasses, Kristoph bravely tried to summon the courage to check the messages left on his desk phone. He reasoned that it would probably be eighty five percent reporters, at minimum. He rubbed the bridge of his nose slowly.

"Remind me again why these two are clients?" The blonde asked. Looking up from his laptop, Neil Marshall had a blank expression.

"…Money." He eventually drawled. "And they keep us in the news."

"It's not worth it." Kristoph decided.

"Sure it is." Neil said. "It keeps me from seeing Diego's face on TV all the time."

"But he's so pretty and dark." Kristoph laughed, leaning back in his large leather chair. "Besides, better him than Calisto." Neil shuddered.

"I don't like her." He drawled. "All right, we need to go and see them."

"Matt and Juan?" Kristoph asked.

"Yeah." Neil nodded. "We need to make sure Adrian meets us there, we need her for the press conference."

"I do so hope our favorite celebrity duo has calmed down." The blonde added. "Matt's not very fun when he gets too enthusiastic."

"Hopefully he'll be medicated." The Texan deadpanned. "We should probably stop by their place and get them a change of clothes."

"You mean that asinine Castle they built?" Kristoph replied, tone almost a correction.

"Yes, that one." Neil nodded, shuddering slightly. "I still think there's a torture chamber in the basement."

"Probably several." Kristoph added. "Let's skip the exploration this time."

Neil chuckled as he stood up, donning his suit vest and jacket. He found Matt and Juan's antics a bit more tolerable. This was in large part to a childhood and teenage years devoted to good-natured pranks and other such behavior with his older brother Jake. Kristoph on the other hand was still fairly button-down. He joked that if Neil was going to blame someone, blame the entire Germanic culture.

"I'm driving." The blonde said, voice sounding like an order. Neil adjusted his tie as he studied his lover.

"Sure." He nodded. "Why not?"

"Wait, really?" Kristoph said, his head turning so quickly his glasses shifted.

"Sure." Neil reaffirmed. "We won't be on the freeway too long, and Matt and Juan live out in the Country. It's probably about a three or so hour drive."

"Uhh… okay." Kristoph said. Truthfully he had prepared a rather long list of reasons he should be allowed to drive, he hadn't anticipated winning without fight. "Do we leave now?"

"Why not?" Neil shrugged as Kristoph made his way to a coat closet adjacent to his desk. The coat he plucked out gave Neil pause. "Oh, come on!"

"What?" Kristoph said, adjusting his glasses.

"If we're going to be on camera, you are _not_ wearing a fur coat. Absolutely are not. Especially one made out of little Russian foxes."

"It's just Sable." The blonde said. "They're not endangered. They're just…" He trailed.

"Just?" Neil asked.

"…Just really fluffy weasels." The blonde declared. Neil groaned as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Just… grab a normal overcoat when the cameras show up. Please, I don't want PETA torching any of our cars." The Texan explained. Kristoph burst into laughter.

"So, it's not an animal cruelty issue, you just want our car collection safe?" Kristoph asked.

"Yeah." Neil nodded. "You think I care about Soviet road kill?"

"…Russian." Kristoph corrected.

"Yeah, that." Neil rolled his eyes. "This just proves you want to be a figure skater."

"…Maybe." Kristoph confessed, blushing. "I'll settle for the lame attempts at what we call surfing."

"Take it up with Jake." Neil eschewed, grabbing his cashmere overcoat. "He's the talented one, athletically, at least."

"Yeah." Kristoph said. "Jake's dreamy. And his muscles." He continued, drifting into an often had fantasy. Neil merely sighed in mock annoyance. It was to his eternal 'frustration' that he was to be constantly compared to the man that even he still had an amazingly taboo crush on. Though, he was at least happy to see Kristoph entering the wide world of humor. He was put at greater ease when he saw Kristoph pick out a less controversial piece of outerwear, a cashmere overcoat.

"Here's hoping we don't find something worse at their lair." The blonde not so enthusiastically sighed. Neil nodded, well aware that Matt and Juan were perhaps the most insane people he knew, even worse than Lana when she was drunk.

"Keys." Neil said, fishing them from his desk and handing them off. "The white one."

"Yes, Neil." Kristoph nodded. "The 1993 NAS Defender 110. I bought it." He reminded, showing he wasn't totally clueless in the field of cars. "Please remember that I also work to earn our fabulous paychecks."

"Oh, how could I forget?" Neil chuckled, wanting to ruffle the blonde's hair, but knowing that would end in Kristoph retreating to one of the expansive bathrooms and fiddling with his hair for a probably lengthy amount of time. Luckily, was already headed to the door, motioning for Neil to follow.

"So, you're being very calm about all this." Kristoph mused. Neil shrugged.

"We're just the lawyers." The younger Marshall answered. "Remember, we're hired guns, no need to try and understand what makes these two insane."

"I suppose." The blonde nodded. "You seem very at ease around those two. What's your secret?"

"They may be insane, but I can beat the crap out of both of them." Neil drawled.

"I dare you to tell Matt that." Kristoph tittered.

"Please, I'm the reason he always twitches when he hears the word Marshall." Neil declared, giving an underhanded grin.

"What about me?" The blonde inquired.

"Kris, you graduated law school at age twenty-one and have an 85% win rate." Neil explained. "You scare people plenty. Especially Lana."

"Why?" Kristoph cocked an eyebrow.

"Because you're the second best defense attorney in the City." Neil winked, giving Kristoph a quick slap on the rear. "I'm still first."

"And where's Diego in our ranking system?" The blonde inquired.

"I don't know. He's better than the Hawthorne Sisters, but not as good as us." Neil pondered as the elevator slowly descended.

"So, third." Kristoph said, batting a bang away from his eyes.

"Sounds about right." The Texan chuckled. "It's the tan, makes him look scary."

"And his shark-like smile." Kristoph laughed, remembering the first time he had seen its full force. Had it not turned out to belong to an almost sugar-sweet human being, Kris was fairly sure Armando might have been capable of eating him alive. "You know, it's amazing how insane each of us are."

"Us?" Neil repeated.

"Us as a descriptor for we the lawyers. You know, us." Kristoph explained. "Besides occasionally being in the paper and on the news, this is very macabre."

"Big word." Neil joked, as he fiddled with his hair in the reflection. "You and your LSAT vocabulary. I can't even remember my score."

"We both got 179's." Kristoph added. "But, my Bar exam was harder. You took the Virginia and Texas Bars, then filed for reciprocity."

"Hey, Virginia isn't easy." Neil drawled. "I still wanted to know why you didn't go to all the amazing schools you were accepted into. Just curious."

"I didn't want to move." Kristoph shrugged. "Besides, I didn't want to be the weird, genius teenage student at the Ivy League school. At least here no one makes a deal out of it."

"Respect for the honesty." Neil smiled, slinging an arm around Kris' shoulder. "Relax, the glasses and the three-piece suits make most people think you're in your late 20's."

"Yes, you're old." Kristoph laughed. Neil rolled his eyes.

"Ouch. Right in the heart." Neil declared, placing a hand to his forehead. "I'm surprised Klavier hasn't turned us all crazy. I do have to wonder what he and Apollo and Ema do every night."

"I sincerely doubt they know." The elder Gavin laughed. "I'm surprised they've managed to pull off a three-way relationship. Most impressive."

"Also speaks to their collective stamina." Neil joked. Kristoph rolled his eyes.

The elevator dinger as it finally reached the abandoned yet cavernous ground floor lobby. The two strode out, their spotless leather shoes clicking loudly as they swept across the marble.

"I find this place to be inherently creepy." Neil drawled.

"We're the only people here, Neil." Kristoph said, chuckling slightly. "Anything empty is supposed to be creepy."

"Makes me wish that we _weren't_ going to the castle." Neil shuddered. "Who builds a _castle_?"

"Rich people. Kings. The clinically insane." Kristoph listed. "I thought we agreed to stop trying to apply logic to the things Juan and Matt do."

"It's so hard not to." The Texan complained. "It's almost as weird as their remake of _Hellraiser_." He added with a shudder.

"They gave us The Box prop as a gift." Kristoph shrugged as he made his way into the garage.

"Which you have yet to even touch." Neil corrected.

"Fine, fine. The cube, in and of itself, is creepy." Kristoph ceded.

"I bet you could get the Pinhead leather suit if you asked nicely enough." Neil tittered. Kristoph scowled as he pulled the keys from his pocket as the SUV came into view.

"How dare you try and make me afraid of two of our best paying clients." Kristoph faked outrage. "I'm already afraid of them, I just hide it well."

"Embrace the fear!" Neil humorously ordered as he climbed into the passenger seat.

"No." The blonde deadpanned. "The only person in this town that scares me is Franziska. She counts as scary."

"Yeah, I'll agree with you on that." Neil nodded. The SUV hummed to life as Kristoph flipped the key in the ignition. Inwardly, Neil was relieved that the parking lot was empty. His fears proved quite unfounded as Kristoph maneuvered the SUV perfectly. As his mind was completely bounding with an overload of current events and possible defenses, he hadn't noticed that they were already on the somewhat clear freeway. "You're either driving fast or the traffic is slow."

"Yes." Kristoph nodded, looking oddly relaxed in the driver's seat. Neil rolled his eyes, amused by his partner's penchant for the aloof.

"Check your messages yet?" The Texan inquired.

"Not yet." Kristoph said. Neil viewed this as invitation to reach across and pull the blonde's iPhone from his coat pocket. Nimble fingers quickly accessed text messages.

"Well, Diego is having fun." Neil laughed. "Half his texts are just the words 'Haha' over and over again."

"Isn't that somewhat standard for Diego?" The blonde asked.

"Yeah, pretty much." Neil nodded, grinning. "Diego's kind of a one-trick pon- Kris, what the Hell!"

"What?" Kristoph answered back, a bit taken with Neil's outburst.

"This is what!" Neil said, voice filled with either outrage or wild amusement. "This… these are pictures. Of Jake!"

Ah, yes. Kristoph knew exactly what his drawling darling was up in arms over. Jake, Kristoph's other drawling darling, had, in his down time, used the impressive camera on his phone to send pictures to Kris. Most were harmless: pictures of waves on the beach, pretty clouds, funny things at the District Attorney's Office, an occasional picture of Lana or Angel. But, on occasion, he did send racier pics. Kristoph quickly learned that Jake's idea of racy was far beyond his own. The pictures would range from Jake shirtless in tattered jeans to the Cowboy fully nude, clearly showing off his very large gift. Whatever he received, Kristoph never complained.

"It's just two grown men swapping pictures." Kristoph said, calm.

"With my brother, who is nude in… 70% of these?" The younger Marshall inquired.

"I don't select what Jake sends." The blonde shrugged. "Take it up with him."

"Oh, whatever." Neil huffed, working his best not to laugh. He had to admit, it was pretty funny, and it only nurtured their secret taboo. "Well… whatever makes you two freaks happy."

"Oh, he's by far the biggest." Kristoph said, grinning. Neil grumbled quietly.

"Was this his idea?" Neil asked.

"Of course." Kristoph nodded. "Do you really think I would ask your big brother for nude pictures?"

"Yes!" Neil laughed. "I'm not mad, per se. Just perplexed."

"I think Jake likes me." Kristoph chuckled. "Not sure to what extent."

"It would be best not to ask." The younger Marshall said. "Jake can be a bit…quirky."

"I figured that out from the pictures." The blonde said. "Relax, Neil. Jake knows I'm dedicated to you. I think he just likes to see how much he can make me laugh."

"Judging by some of these poses, you must be in stitches." Neil said. "And since when does he wear glasses?"

"I mentioned I liked wearing glasses, so Jake got glasses." Kristoph said.

"He has 20/20 vision." Neil shook his head, overly amused. "Oh, well. Whatever makes you two happy."

"Stop making this into something." The elder Gavin smirked. "We're friends!"

"Oh, I'm sure." Neil nodded jokily. "Get off the freeway here and take that weird loopy turn." Kristoph nodded and obeyed.

"I suppose it's good that Matt and Juan live separated from the bulk of the population." Kristoph suggested, observing the scenery gradually change from city to country.

"It's more proof we need a helicopter." Neil drawled.

"The cars are fine." Kristoph laughingly corrected. "Do you think we can win?"

"What, this case?" Neil asked.

"Yes, this case. Consider the variables." The blonde slowly spoke. "Our clients are insane, the victim is the police chief, the same police chief that got into a very public and very violent fistfight with your older brother, your older brother who now works for District Attorney, the District Attorney who wants nothing more than to crucify the police chief. Neil, this isn't a Court case, this is a recipe for complete disaster."

"That's all irrelevant." Neil said simply.

"Beg pardon?" Kristoph replied, swerving slightly.

"Matt and Juan are our clients. Our duty is to provide them with the best possible defense. Everything else is irrelevant." The Texan explained, sounding very dedicated.

"My God, you really believe that." Kristoph admiringly said.

"You're damn right." Neil said. "And, for the record, Jake may not have been identifiable for a few weeks after that fight, but he still won."

"Yes, I remember Diego's masterful arguments that got the case dismissed. He got lucky Judge Hammond hates Chief Gant." Kristoph noted, smirking at the memory of Diego in Court, where he had resembled his graceful yet deadly bullfighter ancestors.

"That's how we'll win." Neil smiled.

"Huh?"

"Whoever the Judge is, odds are they'll hate Gant." Neil drawled.

"That's a dangerous game, Neil." Kristoph nervously added.

"It's an entirely winnable strategy." The younger, much more precariously thinking Marshall insisted. "Besides, we're the best defense attorneys in the city. I'm not saying this is going to be quick or easy, but it is winnable."

"God, what do they teach you UVA Law people?" Kristoph asked, chuckling.

"How to win." Neil drawled.


End file.
